


Of Blood and Glory

by Author_J



Category: Spartacus - Fandom
Genre: A dumb thing, Ancient Rome, F/F, F/M, Happy Ending, I cant help myself okay, M/M, Raging gay Fan, Slave and Masters are a thing, Torture, anynkind of ancient punishment used on slaves, but a thing, crucifyings, lashings, not so happy everywhere else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 19:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15493458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Author_J/pseuds/Author_J
Summary: Young Elatos is the body slave of Quintus Luentulus Batiatus, a well known Gladiator owner within the city Capua. Maximus is a new recruit recently bought by the Dominus Batiatus, his usage well known to be for the arena. When the two meet, love is amidst the blood of the arena and the glory that wants to be won. Many complications come between the two, but to prevail is the greatest victory one can wish for.





	1. Prologue- Elatos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Elatos came under the hand of Batiatus himself.

Life is _nothing_ if pain is not present. It will make purchase upon one’s heartaches, delving into wounds freshly cut or long sealed to rip agony from the host. Pleasures often accompany such pain, but all in all, life can cause a prolonging of misery and suffering. Born into a poor family, young Jaromir was but of an anomaly to those around them. He bore the appearance of neither parent; deep ginger locks, bluish green hues, pale skin littered with freckles, and a lithe form. His mother was of fair skin, but her hair adorned a deep raven hue and hazel eyes. His father was a large man, muscular from lifting heavy objects within the city they resided. His hair was blonde, eyes also a deep chocolate. He immediately assumed his wife had cheated on him, but adultery was not a sin she had committed. His genetics were within her lineage, all genes repressed until mixed with his fathers. Jaromir was a beautiful child, and Romans thought so as well.

At the ripe age of five, he was ripped from his mother’s side and stolen into slavery; taken in the night with not a breath whispered to another. Shackled on a boat, he was sailed across the seas to Rome where he would be sold. His unique appearance gained the attention of several, being sold for a lofty seventeen Drachmas. His name was no longer Jaromir, but his master picked the name of Elatos; a grecian name that sounded befitting of a boy as himself. Being as young as he was, he would soon forget that his name was ever Jaromir, knowledge of Elatos wiping the memory from his brain. His Dominus worked him as a servant in the Vila, having him clean the floors and attend to whatever needed to be done. It was strange for a slave so young to be present within a household, but the opportunity for a rare beauty occurred, and the offer could not be thrown away. Elatos worked under the Dominus Traconius for several years, being sold again at the age of thirteen. Traconius was an elderly man, health plummeting and sending him to the afterlife. His next master was not as kind nor forgiving.

Dominus Linus was a cruel man who sought pleasure in the pain of others, punishing slaves for doing no wrong. There were many times he had been tied up and lashed for no reason, or pushed around and used until proper footing was no longer available for his frail body. As he grew, his boyish features turned more masculine. Still rather lean and skinny, his figure held some muscle to them from the many years of slaving away. His cheek bones became more prominent and his jaw had sharpened, but the freckles never faded. Thick eyelashes loomed over light blue-green orbs, ginger hair styled to fall against his cheeks. Not particularly curly, his hair strayed in odd directions from time to time; he was a handsome male over all. A copious amount of men noticed this, including his master. His punishments shifted from lashes to being used for pleasure against his will. He would be shoved into position until his Dominus was satisfied, limping back to his sleeping quarters to rest until the sun rose another day. Such treatment continued on for six gruel years, stopping when sold for the final time at nineteen years old.

His final and current Dominus was Quintus Batiatus, a well known Ludus owner in Capua. Becoming one of the many slaves in the Lanista, he began to work as a common foot servant of the Dominus and Domina. For his first few years, he served when needed, as well as tending to Quintus whenever called upon. He was soon chosen by the male to become his sole body slave, earning the brand of the Dominus upon his left shoulder. Domina Lucretia had a body slave by the name of Melitta, who was one of his closest friends. In the years he spent within the house of Batiatus, he had watched Gladiators ascend to the gods as one of their own, and some fall to the might of others. Scarlet liquid always graced the sacred sands of the Ludus; a sight he became accustomed to. Every day he would take position by Dominus’ side as the Doctore trained his men, light colored hues watching with great interest. His presence with the Dominus at all times also introduced him to his friend Barca, a towering gladiator who could strike fear into the heart of any. While big and menacing in size, he was a friend like no other. His lover Octus also became of great importance to the redhead, opening the gates to the knowledge of the gladiators he once stood by and idly watched.

As years faded in the sands of time, he had witnessed many come and go. While all but one were of death’s embrace, he secretly missed those gone. Gannicus was the only one to gain freedom and leave, but he was never particularly close with the man. He knew of his taste of wine and women, and his recklessness always set the Dominus on edge. Time came around for Quintus to purchase new recruits in the market, and this time he was left behind to help tend to his wife. When he returned, the body slave was quick to greet his master and trail after him. Standing upon the balcony above the Ludus, he gentle eyes assessed the new meat that would be molded to that of a bull. His eyes fell to a man of tall build, espresso colored hair cleanly cut short and curled lightly. Lightly tanned skin glistened with sweat from the sweltering sun, eyes gazing upon the dark skinned male who spoke. Then, eyes lifted upwards to meet his own, and his breath left his chest. Blue-green eyes went wide as they locked with the other’s, unable to place a color on them. They carried a variety of color from the distance he was at- one he wished to shorten to give distinctive answer. A smirk made it’s way upon the trainee’s lips, his own pale cheeks flushing a light pink. One thing was to be certain; that man was going to invade every aspect of his life, both physically and mentally. 


	2. Prologue- Maximus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Maximus came under the Ludus of Batiatus.

In a small village of Thracia, where people were poor but jovial, lived a boy with heart filled with fire and passion. The boy with of strong build for his age of a mere eight, tan as lightly tanned leather, maybe it’s because of how some dirt and mud caked to his body. His hair was espresso colored, just as his mother’s was as well as cleanly cut; short with slight curls within thicker strands. A color could not put be to the boy’s eyes, as his eyes were all the colors you could imagine. The boy described took the name Maximus, fitting a person such as himself. Maximus had two siblings, an older brother named Damen that looked similar to Maximus but not a twin; most villagers mixed their names up. His younger sister named Filomena adorned hair golden as wheat and blue eyes which held youthful innocence. Her beauty was a gift from their gods themselves, her innocence following suit. Maximus had cherished Filomena the most, even if his love for the rest of his family rivaled. Maximus’s father was a prestigious man of strong build, muscular with light brown hair that reached his shoulders, stubbily beard, and hazel eyes. He did not live a long life, dying while in battle with others Thracian’s fought against Roman’s trying to take over their beloved village. His mother was the most beautiful woman in the village with her long black wavey hair and blue hues. As Filomena turned the age of five she fled, leaving her own three children with nothing but distant memory. Damen took care of Maximus and Filomena as much as he could, Maximus lending a hand ad he would not allow his father to bare such weight alone.Damen soon disappeared into the darkness of night, never to return. This did not bode well with Maximus, leading him go believe all was not well. The feeling Maximus felt was right, as morning came Romans made their way into the Thracian village, burning every house and taking all women and young girls. Maximus watching in horror as his village burned, people screaming and blood everywhere. Maximus grabbed Filomena into his arms and made a run towards the mountain side, until a Roman blocked his path. Before the young male could react, the butt of the sword made contact with his temple, knocking him to the ground and causing a loss of coordination. Crimson liquid seeped from a cut along his brow bone, also trickling down chin. Filomena clung onto Maximus’s arm, begging her unconscious brother to get up. The Romans favored Filomena’s beauty as something numerous Romans would like to have pleasure with, seeking to grasp such a item. As a Roman tried to tear Filomena from Maximus, the young boy punched the Roman with all his might. Grabbing his shaken sister, he hugged Filomena tight and whispering that he loves her and that everything would be fine. The words were returned by the terrified female, but such a moment would not last for long. Romans grabbed and tore Filomena apart from her brother, her tears flowed as she saw her beloved brother reaching for her. Maximus fought against grip, crying as his little sister was to be taken from him. The Romans haven’t seen such fight and fire in a boy this young and wanted to take him as well, but couldn’t let him loosen their grip on his beautiful sister. Filomena cried out as Maximus was struck from behind, knocking him out cold. Maximus would never see Damen, Filomena nor his Thracian village again and now he will have a very different life ahead of him. As Maximus awoke with a head that trobs of pain and lasting memories, he realized that he has been bound in chains. He soon figures he is on the bottom portion of a boat, water splashing in and is heading across seas to a place called Rome; where the men he despised most originated. As he was forcefully removed from ship and was set with another group of boys his age, he realized he was to be bought and be used as slaves or pleasure tools. Maximus bore a smirk on his face, hiding the inner horror he felt as he exited the boat. Daydreams of slaughtering the Romans in sight took ahold of his mind, taking it away from the sound of chains and prices. As he was up for bidding, most of the potential buyers thought he was a sight for sore eyes with is body features and grand looks for a boy of eight years. The men around him took great interest in him, all looking for a boy to have pleasure with or to punish for their own amusements. Even though Romans didn’t exactly like Thracians since they were considered dogs and pieces of shit, they liked what Maximus had to offer. Maximus wasn’t interested in any of the men nor women, but the slave didn’t have a choice as Romans did as they please. As one bidder smiled at Maximus with thirsty eyes, Maximus widened is multi-colored eyes and looked away hoping that he didn’t cause attention to himself. That hope was crushed as the man raised his hand to bid fifteen drachmas, winning the auction and the ownership of the boy. Maximus was shocked, widening his eyes as his now Dominus’ slave came over and unshackled him from the group of slaves. As soon as he was slightly free, Maximus head butted the man, kicked the man right into the chest with quite some force, and punched the man with his cuffs still on. The man fell to the ground, bleeding and in a daze. Maximus then pounded the man in the head, leaving him unconscious and blood flowing from his head. Maximus stood up, blood flowing freely down his face from where his wound on his brow opened from when he head butted the man. The Dominus who bought Maximus was highly more interested in his purchase, seeing as this young man was able to cause such damage to those older and stronger than him. Once Maximus was in his Dominus’ Vila, the Dominus unchained Maximus and grabbed Maximus’s face and told him to stay by his side at all times. Maximus had nothing to say, just a nod of understanding. What more could he say? If he spoke back, he could only imagine what would occur. The Dominus then smiled, dragging his tongue along the side of Maximus’ face and smiled at him before letting go. Maximus was so disgusted that this Roman’s saliva was on him and hated the feeling, looking up slowly as he watched the Dominus walk away; the stare upon his brow was that of a deathly glare. The Dominus looked at Maximus and ordered the slaves to bathe him so he doesn’t look like a “ravage beast”, and they obeyed without question. By the meager age of eight, the Thratian boy was already a slave to a cruel man. A plot began to thicken behind skull, creating a plan to rid his presence of this Dominus. After he was brought to the Vila, Maximus was always at his Dominus’s side; pleasured him as required, cleaned the Vila, was forced to sleep with other that held purpose, and did everything he was asked. Maximus would mostly give a sarcastic remark towards his Dominus, receiving lashes across the back for his snarky words. He would manipulate others in the Vila for fun and watch his Dominus get angry, taking great joy put of the other’s seething rage. After nine long years with the man he called Dominus, he was sold again to a new Dominus at the age of seventeen who was more ruthless then the last. This man adored torturing those who did not obey his every command nor pleasure him they way he wanted. Maximus was already ruined at this point, only wanting to leave this disgusting Roman life and live freely. Maximus always had sarcastic remarks towards everyone but the Dominus hated it when Maximus used remarks towards himself and that would piss his new Dominus off but wouldn’t immediately punish him; the punishments came as agonizing when they came unexpected. As Maximus grew up in his new Dominus’ Vila, he got more masculine and his features became more noticeable to anyone who laid wyes upon him. Still strong in build, he got taller, more muscle and more toned do to cleaning, tons of walking, and forced pleasure. His hair got longer but still had the same color and slight curl to it, but still got it trimmed since his Dominus wanted to see his face and stunning eyes. His eyes were bright multi-colored and never faded, continuing to hold the flame of defiance within them. Maximus didn’t notice his appearance had changed that much were everyone would stare, deciding to ignore the constant eyes upon him. The one thing Maximus hated that most about his new Dominus is that he would slap women slaves if they were in his way or disobeyed his orders; be hated that he laid a hand on women forcefully. One day Maximus had enough of his cruelty towards the women slaves, deciding to take action. Once he saw his new Dominus him hit another women, he ran up towards his Dominus and body slammed him to a wall and began to punched him repeatedly. The Dominus’ guards ripped Maximus off him, struggling to handle Maximus and his strength. The Dominus was covered in bloody clothes and a blood covered face, amany cuts and gashes upon his face; he was furious at such an incident. Maximus didn’t care what happened to him, he could be beaten, tortured, lashed or forced to pleasure. He would take any punishment give to him, but he would not see another women slapped. Maximus got lashed on his back and chest for sarcastic remarks, and for standing up for low-life slaves. His final punishment was to fave his Dominus in singular combat, gaining a chest wound in trying to do so. He also received two bite scars on both his thighs during forced pleasure; ones he will forever wish from his body. Maximus couldn’t get enough pain in this Dominus’ Vila, seeing as this man would see to new agonies each day. After five years of cruel punishments and forced pleasures,he was now the age of twenty two and was sold to his final and current Dominus know as Quintus Bartiartus. Bartiartus was well known around Capua as a gladiator owner and known for housing the gladiator named Gannicus; God of the Arena. As Maximus was in Quintus’ hands, wearing his trademark smirk. Now he knew his purpose; to become the greatest gladiator to step onto sacred sands. Maximus was excited to become a gladiator, which meant he’d be fighting and training to be the best that could be. When Maximus entered the gate of the Ludus, he looked around to figure out the landscape; on his right there are three separate rooms, in front there’s a open ground of sand and dirt and no wall up ahead where there is a cliff, on his left is the Vila of Bartiartus where there are two floors. The bottom level is set up with tables we’re possibly were the gladiators eat and he sees a passageway to what he sees are cells and of course that’s were he stays, and on the top is a balcony where the Domina and Dominus and their body slaves look over the new meat they will train. Maximus would be okay here, hopefully. As Maximus and other soon-to-be gladiators entered with him, he looked up to the balcony to see the Domina with her body slave, Dominus and it perhaps Dominus’ body slave. Maximus’ eyes catches a male with red-no, deep ginger hair, with a lean pale toned body littered with freckles all over and orbs that appear to be green from such distance. Maximus lost the breath in his chest as he stares at the male while marching to get into the line, eyes meeting after several fleeting moments. Maximus smirked yet wider up to the male on the balcony, letting him know that he got Maximus’ attention. As eyes caught sight of the pink flush painted across the male’s cheeks, the soon-to-be gladiator caught feeling that the small male would bring about love, freedom, and passion to his colorless world.


	3. Chapter One- Upon First Glance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When eyes clash from afar, what will the two parties willingly do to grow closer to one another?

“Elatos, see to my wife as I go to market. Today I buy more slaves to be molded into gods in the arena!”

“Yes Dominus. See to safe travel.”

Just as the day started, the Dacian male was left to himself. Being the body slave of Quintus Batiatus definitely had its perks, one being that he was to be left to attending Lucretia’s needs; primarily the bringing of food and wine to the Domina. Today, however, he was simply aiding her in tidying her hair piece. She had sent Naevia off to tidy her and her husband’s quarters, leaving him to solely to serve her. He was a well liked slave by most of status in the house, as well as the common foot slaves and those who served as help in the Ludus. His dearest friend by the name of Pietros worked as a helper of the Gladiators, serving as a second hand of the Doctore in a sense. His love, Barca, was also a dear friend of his, as well as many beneath the containment of the Ludus. Sitting upon the balcony with the Domina in front of him, he carefully brushed her hair as she ate figs and drank wine. Silence was soon broken by the woman herself, a slight giggle leaving her lips.

“For a man, your hands hold soft purpose with brush. It is a nice change from the brute ones of those who share your lands.”

The words were a backhanded compliment; he was gentle handed for someone from a place so “brutish”. A light smile found purchase on his pale lips, continuing to comb the unnatural strands before speaking .

“Gratitude, Domina. I take pride in my gentle hold- one amongst male slaves must bare the burden of light hold.”

The wording was more light hearted and held a joking nature, which was caught and laughed upon.

“You are correct- those who share your blood also spill it with heavy grip on sword. Yours, however, find feather light purchase against brush handle.”

The phrase was a simple pointed fact, one well known to the slave. Many who shared his bloodline fought and died in the arena- some standing below him training. Those with foreign of Roman blood stood with crimson liquid forever dripping from blade, whilst his stood with softer luxuries in hand. A blessing and a curse to not know the ways of fighting, but one he would take upon.

The crack of the Doctore’s whip silenced the clashing of swords and grunts of frustration as several men in chains filed in single file, the Dominus taking stand beside his wife. Quick to rise to his feet, Elatos greeted his Dominus with a light bow before taking his place by his side. Oenomaus curled the leather weapon back to his side as he spoke, hard eyes gazing upon the men brought to become Gladiators.

“What stands beneath your feet?”

A question the body slave has heard yet numerous times with each new batch of recruits, and all give the same answer.

“... _Sand_?”

A dull roar of chuckles split the silence, but a look of distain stayed written across the dark skinned male’s lips. Head turned to look back at the Champion, his lips breaking in slight smile.

“Crixus. What lies beneath your feet?”

“Sacred ground, Doctore. Watered with the tears of blood.”

Well answered as it always would be by Champion Crixus. Light blue-green eyes scanned over the slaves as Oenomaus gave his speech about how Gladiators “fuck” death each time they step on the arena sand. Upon his own assessment, he came to recognize one man; Spartacus. He was the one who escaped execution by slaughtering four Romans in the arena, and who was offered life by his Dominus. His eyes scanned the remaining men, halting on one in particular. He was of tall build, muscular and tanned like fine leather. His hair was deep in color, curled shortly against his head in quite the attractive manor. The newly chosen trainee’s eyes lifted, locking with his own. Breath escaped his body with haste as their eyes locked, cheeks flushing a delicate pink hue. His eyes... he could not place a color to them. Be it the distance they stood apart or just how unique his eyes were, a color stood no comparison. A devilish smirk soon appeared on the male’s lips, causing a light pink hue to darken to mild red. It was as if he was in a trance; unable to break away from such intense and... surprisingly gentle gaze. His head snapped to the side as his name was called, Quintus holding a puzzled look.

“Elatos, do you fair well? You seem dazed.”

“Apologies, Dominus. I was merely distracted by an object now flown to the distance.”

“Well, then fetch more wine.”

“Right away, Dominus.”

With those parting words, the male scurried off the balcony with racing heart and flushed cheeks. That gaze... it tore through him as a sword would flesh. Something within him whispered of how their future would intertwine, never to part. Such thoughts were quickly shaken from mind, descending to the cellar to grab more wine.

 

MAXIMUS’ POV

 

One glance was all it took to capture both his interest and heart’s desires. What the man’s multi-hued orbs fell upon was truly beautiful; a rare flower amongst boulders and dirt. His hair was a deep red, lightly curled against pale skin. He could see freckles dotting across his face and chest from the distance he stood, as well as his body type. For a house slave, he held some muscle. It was not quite as defined as those in the Ludus, but it gave him a more manly appearance amongst his feminine traits. His eyes- oh his eyes. They seemed to be a shade somewhere between green and blue, but they were beautiful nonetheless. It seemed that as quickly as their eyes met, the slave was ordered away by the Dominus. His name was but a fallen whisper, lost among the speeches of the Doctore. He had been half listening, his attention once focused on the boy now drawn back to what stood in front of him. He was to become a god of the arena; a Champion. Maximus fully intended to steal the title from the little man known to be Crixus; a Gaul with the blood appetite of Ares himself. To become the best within the Ludus would prove to be a challenge, but none would stand too difficult for him.

Once the pleasantries of first meetings were over, the men were lead to the bathhouse where they were to clean themselves. His mind was preoccupied by the small ginger he managed to lock eyes with upon the balcony, head turning towards the other new recruits.

“Did any of you catch glimpse of the red head upon the balcony? Beside our new master’s side?”

“Yes- what of him? Most likely the Dominus’ body slave.”

“Would he have a name?”

“How in Jupiter’s cock would I be blessed with such fucking knowledge?”

“Who knows- perhaps you are Fabulinus hims-“

Maximus’ snarky comment was cut short by a towering figure; the one he saw with Crixus. Barca was his name, and he seemed pissed. A heavy step was taken, low glare boring into the new recruit.

“If you value that small cock of yours, you will silence tongue of the boy.”

His voice was deep and rather menacing, but that hardly made the Thracian flinch.

“Oh? Are you the one who fills his ass then? A cute one you ha-!”

A hand to his throat silenced him, back coming into contact with the wall quite roughly. With the anger of a bull, Barca gritted his teeth as he stood mere centimeters from Maximus’ face.

“Even if I were, I will rip your legs from fucking body if I see you in his company. Keep clear of the boy unless you crave death before the arena, Thracian mutt.”

The hissing words held deep meaning, but it was not likely he was to heed them. Wishing to snap back at the larger male, Maximus was well aware he’d lose such a fight now. Perhaps once he was trained he could revisit such words, but for now he bit his tongue and simply glared back. With a final shove against the wall, Barca released and backed away, eyes lingering in deathly glower. It appeared he would have to find out the boy’s name on his own, and that would prove more tasking then he had wanted. Perhaps if he got the attention of the Dominus or Domina; Dominus in specific. If the redhead is indeed his body slave, then he will be the one to fetch him to present him to Quintus. Maximus knew he would have to stall the male a few moments to gain some information on him, and punishment lingered to be presented if they took far too long. Though it was a fear he was willing to risk; the boy had him enamored by just one glance, leaving him with the want to know more. His name, past, hobbies- he wanted to know all. His heart held soft areas, and this unknown male had managed to slither his way inside the spot without any trouble. Maximus only hoped he was of kind nature, not a snake hiding in grass to mask true nature.

Removing the minimal cloth he had from his waist, the now bare man stepped towards the water to wash the dirt and grime from his skin. Another being stood in his way, this time being the Champion himself.

“Only brothers may wash- once you prove worthy you may, dog.”

The vile words posed as warning not the test the patience of the man in front of him, drawing a low growl from the soon-to-be gladiator. He submitted by stepping back, dressing himself before letting out a low chuckle.

“And I thought the men on Thracia posed as asses- you’d fit in well, oh undefeated Gaul. Though I fear you’d have a difficult time keeping your cock in your pants as the rest of your race does.”

It was a malicious comment, but no action was taken seeing as Maximus exited the room before Crixus could properly respond. He would have to speak with the other Thracian- Spartacus. He knew he would find good company with him, and he would need at least one friend to keep him company. That is, until he can find time for the red head who has caught his gaze.

 

ELATOS’ POV

 

After fetching more wine and standing beside the Dominus as he watched his gladiators, the man took to his personal quarters to finish some work. Elatos of course followed suit, standing ready to fit the man’s needs. There was a moment of silence as Quintus worked, but he posed a question after looking over some documents.

“Elatos. You have been by my side for years now and have witnessed many men ascend to godhood in the arena. How do you think the newest batch will fare?”

The redhead stood silent for a moment, taking pause to think. They all seemed quite capable to fight amongst the gladiators, but some did prove to hold more value.

“Each of the men prove to hold value once skills are honed, Dominus. Though a few seem more... promising to bring coin. Spartacus and the other Thracian seem to hold the most vale of the recruits.

“As I thought as well. Spartacus has proven to be useful in the arena- those four romans proved that. Maximus hails from similar blood, plus he just has the purpose to become a Gladiator. You can see it in his eyes; he is bloodthirsty as most his kind. Those two are wild dogs who need to be broken, but I believe it can be done.”

“Maximus... with proper training and obedience, I believe he will prove himself worthy of the title of a “god”.”

So that was his name. The man who stole his breath at first glance... it suited him well. The name was foreign yet pleasing against his tongue, feeling as if he has said it many times before. His attention was grabbed as the other lifted his head again, letting out a sigh.

“Tell my wife I will join her in a moment. These document need to be revised before sunrise and I fear if i rest now, they will never be read.”

“Yes Dominus.”

With those final words, the small redhead took towards the private chambers with heavy thoughts. He knew it would be beneficial to keep his thoughts away from Maximus, but the man had a way of working his brain to only think of him. It was ignorant, really. He had only his name and appearance to fuel such thoughts, so maybe distance will keep them at bay. The look in the other’s eyes told him that distance would become hard to keep; Maximus was just as curious as himself, and would attempt to grow closer as days passed. Such a thought did not settle wrongly, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, J here! This is my first story on AO3, so i hope you like it! These two are meant to be more of a slow burn, but it will pick up soon! Thanks for reading and i’ll see you guys in the next chapter!


	4. Chapter Two- Interests Further Piqued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With troubled brewed and blood spilt, Maximus gets his desires and wishes granted by none other than Elatos himself.

The following days continued as such: Elatos would awake the Dominus, dress him, and follow him around as a puppy would it’s master. He would then observe the training gladiators along side Quintus, watching as they would spar. He would gaze distantly as the trainees learned, watching as muscles strained to pick up wooden beams to haul around for hours on end. It was quite entrancing watching them; the muscles straining under such weight, sweat rolling down sculpted chests to fall onto the sands, the looks of concentration across all of their faces as they kept the beams in the air. One man continuously drawled his eyes from the other to him- Maximus. Elatos could hardly keep them away, always trailing over muscular back and chest. The Dominus and Domina idly chatted amongst themselves beside him, leaving him to ogle at the attractive man. His eyes snapped to the side as movement caught his vision, landing on Peitros. He was smiling widely and waving up to the Body slave, drawing a giggle from the redhead. The young boy was almost like a brother to him; he loved the dark skinned male with all his heart. Waving back with just as wide a smile, teal eyes watching as the curly haired male rushed back to Doctore’s side. He would often watch as he’d stare his lover Barca down, flushing whenever their eyes met. It was honestly quite cute how in love those two were- he was shocked to see so after what happened to Auctus.

His attention was caught as his name was breathed beside him, head turning to see the Dominus looking at him.

“Your prediction holds true; Maximus is fairing well. It is as if the Tartarus burns within him, fueling the fires that ignite desires. He will spill enough blood to overflow the heavens!”

The words were followed by a jovial laugh, leaning over to kiss his wife. Hearing of such bloodshed never brought about such happy feelings in the small male- those dying were humans too! To die for the amusement of others sounded... terrible. The gladiators held it as an honor to die on the sands, but Elatos saw it differently.

The crack of Doctore’ whip snapped him from his thoughts, head turning to peer at what was happening. The Gladiators were sent to eat, as well as the trainees. Quintus retracted into the house, Elatos following suit. He would stand by the man’s side until dismissed, which was to happen soon. Taking a seat at his desk, his eyes lifted to look upon his body slave.

“Elatos, you are dism-“

The dominus was cut short by a guard rushing in, out of breath from his rushing.

“Dominus! Maximus and Barca are brawling!”

A growl left the owner’s lips, sighing loudly.

“See to their separation! Elatos- bring Maximus here. Words must be broken it appears.”

The boy and the guard both nodded, setting at a brisk pace towards the Ludus. Arriving at the metal gate that separated the house from the training area, the redheaded boy looked to the guard.

“Hurry hence and bring Maximus. The Dominus is not one to wait patiently.”

The guard gave a swift nod before leaving the freckled body slave to await his return with the trainee.

 

MAXIMUS’ POV

 

It was never his intention to get into a fight with Barca. Hell, he never had the want to even talk to him. The tall man acted much like his smaller counterpart, Crixus; narcissistic and closed minded. He only thought of himself and rarely those he called brothers- the rest besides Peitros were left to dry. He had been training his absolute hardest to prove himself worthy of the name “brother” amongst the other gladiators, but it seemed his best attempts were hardly enough. Well, that and he wanted the redhead’s eyes upon him constantly. He often would look up to the balcony when the Dominus’ body slave was not paying him mind, taking in his pleasing form. He would work extra hard when the other was spectating, wanting to gain his attention. Barca’s warning was hardly heeded; he needed to know that boy’s name.

After the day’s training was over, it was time to eat. Whilst the Gladiators had been training, the new recruits had been preforming what was called “The March”. It is where they walk in a circle with a heavy wooden beam upon back until Doctore told them to halt. It was excruciating to walk in a circle all night, keeping pace and not dropping the cumbersome object upon shoulders. He himself had almost passed out at one point, just as every other recruit had almost done. It was overly strenuous and he could hardly wait until tonight’s rest. The gladiators claimed their food first, which was expected. There was a event coming up in the arena, and Quintus had entered some of them into the drawing. Of course Crixus was placed as the final match; the biggest event for those watching to cheer over. The undefeated Gaul was sure to give a show against whoever it was he was fighting, even if he had no idea who it was yet. There had to be a reason behind the name “Champion of Capua”. If not, that was a name to be handed to another who may prove more worthy.

When it came time for the recruits to eat their fill, it appeared that the others had different plans. He had stood behind Varro and Spartacus during the wait for their meal, Barca coming over and roughly shoving the server out of the way. A sly smirk appeared on his lips as he grabbed the ladle, looking up from the pot of slop.

“I recall the hardship of The March when I was a recruit. You must be mad with hunger. Fill your bellies-“

With those words spoken, he pushed the cauldron from the table, slopping the food held in the ladle’s spoon onto the floor with it. The two in front of him simply glared as the gladiators laughed at their misfortune, but Maximus was not one to stand idly by. As Spartacus and Varro cleaned up a mess that was not theirs, the Thracian could feel the blood pounding in his ears. Blood broiling, his fists clenched as icy gaze met the perpetrator.

“Filthy Phoenician cunt!”

The words were dripping with venom, and they easily silenced the mess hall. Barca stood enraged, his thick figure puffing up in rage. Standing a mere few inches taller than Maximus, the man huffed as a bull would before charging.

“You speak such words, mutt? Are you willing to pay price for them?”

“Such truths do not need punishment.”

That is what set the taller of the two on a rampage. Lumbering steps were taken as Barca hurled himself at Maximus, his clenched fist meeting the other’s jaw with a sickening crack. The recruit stumbled back, back hitting the wall as his vision blurred. He could see his opponent dart forward again, but he moved just in time for fist to meet wall instead of his face. The force behind such a punch easily cracked bones, a yell of pain sounding from the Phoenician. Maximus took the opportunity to throw his own punch, fist meeting the center of the other’s chest. Such a force knocked the wind from Barca, causing him to fall back this time. The other gladiators were roaring at the entertainment, shocked someone would dare take Barca on. The uproar caught the guard’s attention, which is what sent him rushing to fetch the Dominus. By the time he returned with a few other soldiers, Barca had stratled Maximus and was beating his face in. It was obvious the gladiator had sustained a few punches to the face as well, but the Thracian was worse off. It took all four guards to pry the man from the other, the fifth guard grabbing ahold of the short haired male and yanking him to his feet.

“You have been summoned!”

His tone was sharp and irritated, pushing Maximus towards the large gated door. He stumbled from the recent pounding he took, but slowly managed to see straight once a few steps were taken. Halting once he reached the gate, a sight he thought he would have to struggle for met his eyes; the redheaded boy he had been longing to meet. Up close, he was even more beautiful. He could count the freckles that draped over his shoulders and down his chest, scattering further away from each other the farther down he went. His lean body held lightly sculpted muscles, but they were visible enough to make his mouth water. His skin seemed so supple and soft; oh how lovely it would feel under his hands. He felt as if his rough hands would break something so delicate upon first touch, but he knew otherwise. A small smirk came to the soon-to-be gladiator’s lips, watching as the gate was unlocked. He was roughly shoved through, stumbling forward as the gate was shut behind him. The redheaded male simply nodded to the guard, motioning for Maximus to follow before walking up the stairs. Oh, follow he would.

 

NO ONE’S POV

 

As the two ascended the stairs that lead to the upper floor, Elatos let out a shaky breath. The man he had been nearly drooling over was right by his side! Of course he was a bit nervous. The walkways were empty of slaves- the Domina was most likely keeping most of their company. Elatos continued walking towards the Dominus’ office, knowing the man behind him would follow. Plus, the sound of heavy footsteps lumbering behind him let him know Maximus was following. The two men were almost there when a large hand came around the body slave’s wrist, yanking him back with a gasp of surprise. His small frame was easily pulled, his back meeting with that of one of the pillars holding the house up. Wide teal eyes peered up at the assailant, breath hitching in his throat; Maximus had him pinned in a way he could not escape. A soft smile came to the recruit’s lips, a chuckle then leaving them.

“Apologies for the startle. I cannot help myself around such beauty.”

His words brought a deep flush to the smaller male’s freckles skin, eyes widening to show his shock. A weak clearing of his throat sounded a moment later, eyes tearing away to stare at the floor.

“W-We must go; Dominus is n-not one to patiently wait.”

A soft laugh from the muscular male was soon heard, a meaty hand coming up to lift Elatos’ chin. Gemstone-like orbs met green-blue ones, and the boy knew he was weak. His body did not struggle, his hands staying at his side rather than attempting to push the other away.

“Then let me know your name. Then we may go.”

All Maximus wanted was his name? What an odd price to continue on. Gulping thickly, the redheaded boy nodded before smiling ever so kindly.

“I am called Elatos. Now, we must make haste.”

He hummed, attempting to move away from the other’s hold. A thick hand came to his cheek, stopping his motions almost immediately.

“Such beauty blessed by the gods... a name so fitting of one they took time in creating.”

Such a compliment sent the poor boy into a flushed mess, but a smile was never removed from his lips. Maximus finally pulled away, taking a step back to allow the reddened male to breathe. Without a moment to lose, the body slave continued towards the Dominus’ quarters.

The two arrived moments later, Quintus thanking his body slave and dismissing him swiftly. Elatos simply nodded his head and walked away, feeling eyes bore into his backside. Maximus watched him go with interest, quick to turn back to the not so happy man.

“Fighting with Barca- have you lost mind?! I am aware of their treatment, but it will cease when you bare the mark of the brotherhood. Maximus- i hold great trust in you. You will become a god in the arena, but not like this! Ease mind of tension- it will all end soon.”

“Apologies Dominus, but I had need to spar with him. He was being an ass- so I broke more than just words. It may end once the mark is upon skin, but not for others.”

“I understand concerns, but worry only of yourself. Such concerns will make a man soft. Elatos!”

The words broken were stopped as Quintus called his slave back in, who appeared in seconds. He stood attentive at the door, eyes wide to show his alertness.

“Take Maximus to bath and wash blood from him. Return him to the Ludus when finished.”

“Yes Dominus.”

With the orders given, the body slave motioned for the man to follow him into the next room. Grabbing a bowl and some cloth, he allowed Maximus to sit as he cleaned him. Gently wiping the blood from his nose and gash on his forehead, a small smile lightened Elatos’ lips.

“Barca is a formidable foe, yet you treat him a mere kitten. Heed caution; he is not one to forget.”

“You speak as if you know him well.”

“He is a brother to me, as is Peitros. They hold me close to heart as I do them.”

The words spoken between the two were all but friend chit chat, the redhead taking care to properly clean the other of blood. A silence fell over them for a moment, though the taller of the two quickly broke it.

“I have felt your gaze upon me from above- have you taken interest in my success?”

A heavy flush came upon Elatos’ cheeks, movements stilling for a moment. He continued to clean as he answered, clearing his throat embarrassedly before proceeding.

“I have made point to tell the Dominus you will fair well in the arena. I have also felt your gaze upon me- why is that?”

“How can i pull eyes away from one crafted by the gods themselves? Whose beauty rivals that of Venus herself?”

Such words caused another wave of hot blush paint over pale cheeks, though a smile tugged at his lips.

“Sweet words of such nectar bare no fruits. It will take more than flirtatious remarks to sway my hand.”

“Then i shall do as necessary.”

It was odd to hear someone wanted him in such a way. Elatos finished cleaning the blood from his nose and cut, his smile still prevalent upon soft lips.

“You know nothing of me.”

“Then i must learn.”

With those words spoken, the petite slave stood up to empty the dirtied water before returning to the other’s side.

“Come- you are to be brought back to the Ludus.”

No more words were exchanged as Maximus was brought back to the stairs, following Elatos closely as they descended. The gate was not locked, so a simple push let the metal creak open. Maximus looked past the gate for a moment, his eyes trailing back to the male beside of him. The freckled boy stood his ground, looking up towards the other.

“Keep from trouble- seeing your blood is great sorrow upon me.”

“If trouble means i keep your company, then i will continue on.”

A groan left Elatos’ lips at that remark, rolling his eyes softly. This man was willing to take beatings to see him? To learn what he was like? How... odd. A hand came to rest on the middle of the slave’s back, but the touch was fleeting. Maximus soon stepped away, passing through the metal gate and towards his sleeping cell. Heat lingered in the place last touched by the man, but it was a feeling Elatos found he liked. Craved, even. Pulling the metal door shut, a sigh fell past his lips as he went back up the stairs. It seemed that his life was about to change at the will of one man’s hands; Maximus. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of chapter two! I’m so glad i got to write out their first meeting! It’s been stewing in my head for so long good god. Until the next chapter!  
> -J


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